Blood Brothers
by sergeantmicky
Summary: This is nothing but an excuse to write a bunch of short stories involving Bucky and Steve and shameless fluff. If you don't care about an on-going plot and are just looking for cuddles, then this is the story for you. There will be fluff. And tears. And hugs. Other Avengers will probably show up too. **NO SLASH, JUST BROMANCE**
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! **

**So here is the first chapter of what will be a series of short stories completely focusing on SHAMELESS CUDDLING. I am not embarrassed to say that plot will be thin here. If you are not interested in shameless cuddling, and are annoyed by stories that have no zero to no plot, you might want to skip this. I am writing it solely because I want to make Bucky and Steve hug and cry and be cute. **

**As usual there is ******NO SLASH******* and there never will be. This is just a super bromance. That's all. **

**There's no set number of chapters so I'm not sure how long it will go on. As of right now, I have an idea for a second chapter, and nothing beyond that. But I'm 99% sure it will keep going after that, because I always have new ideas for being mean to these boys. Hahaha! :)  
**

**The time frame is any time after Bucky comes back to Steve. I might reference things from my other story "First Hint of Spring" but you will not need to read that one for this one to make sense. **

**WARNINGS: Language, and complete and total fluffy shameless cuddling, crying, the works. **

**I hope it's enjoyable.**

**x**

Bucky always has nightmares. He has them almost every single night without fail. There are exceptions every now and then, if he's especially tired or if he's especially relaxed, or if he and Steve stay up super late talking. But most of the time, a nightmare – at least one - can be guaranteed every night.

Steve knows they might not ever stop, and he's prepared to get up every single night and comfort Bucky until the end of his days if he has to.

He has his fair share of bruises to show for the times he startles Bucky, the times Bucky wakes up terrified and lashes out, and of course the times Bucky wakes up angry instead of scared. But they're getting a lot less frequent - the times that he startles Bucky, not the nightmares.

Bucky looks for him now when he wakes up, if Steve isn't already there. Sometimes Steve will wake up abruptly, sensing that someone is near, and Bucky will be on his bed - usually sitting with his knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, eyes glinting in the darkness.

He never tries to wake Steve up, he just sits there and waits for Steve to notice him. He's usually shaking, sometimes crying, and almost always freezing when Steve finally gets up and wraps him in a hug or coaxes him to lay down close by so Steve can rub his back and talk him back into sleep. It's kind of a routine, and they've fallen into it completely.

Steve has nightmares too though. He hasn't told Bucky about them, he's not sure why. Maybe it's because Bucky's are clearly so much worse and Steve can usually deal with his own just fine. Usually.

Sometimes he dreams about Peggy, the way she was when she was young. The curve of her lips, the sparkle of her dark eyes. Those ones aren't really nightmares. They make him sad when he wakes up, but they're not nightmares.

No, the really bad nightmares come in two different forms. One he thinks of as his "plane crash" dream, and it comes in various different incarnations involving Schmidt and not being able to stop him, and the plane dropping the bombs on New York City and knowing without a doubt that he has failed and that everyone is dead.

But the worst part of that one is when he dreams – well, it's more of a memory – of the plane crashing into the ice. He sees the ice rushing up at him, he hears the sound of the metal crunching and bending and he remembers the impact. He always wakes up icy cold, shaking, staring into the dark for a long time before he can convince himself that he is not in the plane any longer, he is in his room in Stark Tower.

But even that is not the worst dream. The worst nights are when he dreams about Bucky.

Sometimes there's the predictable one – the one that he's been having ever since it happened in 1944 - Bucky falling off the train, watching his friend fall away from him a hundred times over, unable to save him every single time.

But now it is different. Now it doesn't stop with Bucky falling. Now he sees Bucky laying in the snow, all alone, and it is so quiet and there is snow slowly falling around him, landing softly on his blue jacket and not melting and he's crying and there is blood and Steve can't do anything but watch.

Sometimes he wakes up crying after that dream. It's not like when Bucky wakes up crying – those are terrified, panicked tears – no, these are just quiet tears, streaking down Steve's face while his eyes were still closed, and he wakes up and his face is wet. He always has to check on Bucky to make sure he's okay after that.

Other times he dreams of Bucky being tortured. He dreams of Bucky being frozen, being beaten, crying and cowering and alone. He has never seen this with his own eyes, but he has seen the pictures in the file, and he has heard Bucky talking in his sleep enough times to have a pretty good idea and obviously it's enough for his unconscious mind to come up with images he really would rather not see.

Those are the worst nightmares, and he usually wakes up violently, sitting bolt upright in bed, sweating and trembling with rage, but there is never anyone there to take out his fury on. He goes over to Bucky's bed sometimes and just sits on it, watches his best friend sleeping, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched and thanks God that Bucky is safe with him now.

As far as he knows, Bucky is unaware of these nightmares, and he intends to keep it that way.

On this particular night, Steve's head is pounding. It's been a fairly lazy day, but this also means that they sat around in the sun for way too long on the roof of Stark Tower.

Before the serum Steve could never take too much sun, and it seems that this is one of the few things that did not change post-serum. He can take it a bit more now, but he still burns quite easily and too much sun ends up making him feel kind of sick. So that's where he's at now.

He lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling, listening to Bucky brush his teeth in the bathroom, making just a bit more noise than necessary as he closes cupboards.

_Nothing's changed there, _Steve thinks, amused. Bucky wasn't ever quiet getting ready for bed. Steve sighs and runs a hand through his sun-bleached hair. _Super soldier, sure. But the sun still beats me down eventually. _

Bucky emerges from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, and heads right for his bed. "'Night, Steve."

"Good night, Buck."

Steve watches him flop down onto his bed, curl up on his side, and pull the sheet up to his chin even though it's definitely too warm in the room for that.

It's not that air conditioning isn't an option, but honestly neither Steve or Bucky are fond of air conditioning and so their room remains sticky and hot while the rest of Stark Tower is like a damn freezer.

He looks at Bucky one more time, and his dark head is burrowed almost underneath his pillow. The curled up shape of him under the blankets looks far too small to be a grown man.

Steve smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He's staying on top of his own blankets, and he drifts off quickly, glad for the dark of the room finally.

_He can't move, but when he looks down at himself there is nothing visible holding him back. He knows without having to try that he will not be able to break the invisible bonds._

_Bucky is across the room from him, shirtless, sitting against the wall. He's shaking uncontrollably, eyes dark and wild with fear, and he's staring at the door to Steve's right. _

_Steve tries to speak, but no sound comes out. _

"_Steve..." Bucky's voice is low and sounds more like a whimper than anything else. "Steve... don't..."_

_There is the sound of footsteps outside the door and Bucky starts to shiver harder, backing into the corner and pulling his knees up. "Steve...!" _

_Steve struggles, he struggles so hard, but looking down at his body he can see his arms and legs are not moving one inch. _

_The door swings open and Rumlow walks in. It does not look like Rumlow, his head is Johann Schmidt's Red Skull head, but Steve knows that it is Rumlow, and he speaks with Rumlow's voice as he looks past Steve at Bucky. "It's time, kid." _

"_No..." Bucky whimpers. "I don't __–__ I don't want __–__ Steve __–__"_

_Don't touch him! Steve yells, but no sound comes out, and Rumlow starts to move towards Bucky and Bucky cowers away, and his eyes, desperate and dark, lock onto Steve's face. "Please, please, Steve, please..."_

_Rumlow looks back at Steve as he walks, and he's smiling. "What're you gonna do, Rogers? You can't save him." He's got one of those rods in his hand, the ones he'd used to shock him in the elevator, and he starts to reach towards Bucky, and Bucky says "Steve" again but it's quieter this time, still pleading but more like a whisper, and - _

Steve jerks awake with a shout that turns into more of a roar, and there is someone touching his arm, just the dark shape of a man right next to him and he moves automatically, fueled by rage, launching himself forward and knocking the man off the bed and onto the floor. His hand is clenched around the man's throat and he squeezes, panting, his blood boiling.

_I will kill you, I will kill you if you touch him. _

The man's arms are pushing at him weakly, not really fighting back at all, just trying to push him away, and it's only when the moonlight suddenly glints off something and he turns his head to look that he notices.

Silver.

Metal.

A metal arm.

_Bucky. I'm hurting Bucky._

Everything suddenly comes into sharp focus, and Steve jerks back and away, horrified.

As soon as he lets go, Bucky scrambles away from him faster than Steve's seen him move in ages. He moves like a ghost, almost too fast for his eyes to follow.

"Bucky –" Steve's in shock. Bucky's in the corner of the room beside his bed, pressed back as far as he can go, and in the moonlight his eyes are huge and terrified, his flesh hand at his own throat. His breathing sounds raw even from here, but Steve is more worried about the expression on his best friend's face.

"Bucky. Buck. Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Steve starts to move toward him and Bucky's chin goes up, his head jerking back as if he's afraid of being struck.

"No..." he whispers, and he's holding out his metal hand, not for Steve to take it, but to warn him away.

"Okay, okay." Steve holds up his hands, stays put. _Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. This is not good at all. _

"Sorry, sorry Steve. Sorry..." It's barely a whimper, low and shivery, Bucky's eyes on the floor, hair hanging around his face, and Steve has to listen to it for a few moments before actually taking in what he's saying.

"Why are you apologizing?" He crouches there on all fours on the floor, trying to assess the situation properly before doing anything else.

"I – I didn't mean –" Bucky's voice trails off, he pushes himself further back against the wall, Steve sees him start to tremble – it starts in his hands and rapidly moves up his arms to the rest of the body. "Sorry. Sorry. Please -" His eyes are getting too shiny and he rubs at them abruptly with his right hand, avoiding Steve's eyes.

Steve's chest aches. _I attacked him and he's the one apologizing to me. How does that make any sense? _

"Bucky. Bucky. Stop. It's all right. Can I –" Steve pauses, swallows. He dreads asking the next question. "Can I come over to you?"

Bucky's gaze flicks back to him, and his eyes are so big and dark and sad and shiny Steve swears he looks exactly like a kicked puppy. He bites his lip, looking down and away, and shivers suddenly, hard, a full-body shudder, and finally nods at the floor.

Steve doesn't even want to guess how hard that must have been for him to do. _After I just tried to strangle him, Jesus. And he's still letting me come over. _

Steve moves up slowly, as though approaching a cornered animal, and when he gets close enough he puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky flinches hard, and Steve's heart sinks a bit. _Good job, Rogers. Good job. After all the hard work... _

Bucky lets him move up right in front of him, but he won't look at him, he's looking everywhere but at Steve. If his expression is anything to go by, it's taking everything in his power to not move away. Steve can almost smell the fear coming off his friend. He's so close to him now but Bucky is all curled up, knees up, arms against his ribs, head turned away. His body language says clearly _Don't touch me, I'm afraid of you. _But he isn't saying it.

Steve sits back on his heels, sighs softly. _Think, Rogers, think. _ He feels as if he can just get Bucky to look at him he might have a chance. "Bucky. Hey. Can you look at me for a second? Please?"

Bucky clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, but when he opens them again he's looking right at Steve. There is fear in his gaze, and it breaks Steve's heart. He puts a hand on Bucky's knee, ignoring his flinch, and holds his gaze firmly.

"I am so, so sorry, Buck. I – I had a nightmare. And you surprised me. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Bucky's eyes immediately fill up with tears, and he twists his head away, tucks his face against his own shoulder.

"I - I surprised you. I d-d-didn't mean to. I j-just heard you... dreaming. You sounded upset. It was my fault. I'm s-" He sounds shockingly young.

"Don't apologize. It was not your fault. Hey." He pats Bucky's knee, and when Bucky doesn't look at him, he very carefully reaches out and takes Bucky's chin, turns his head toward him, then smiles. "You were just trying to help me. How many times is it the opposite way around? Huh? And I don't apologize. You're always apologizing to me."

"B-but you always tell me not to," Bucky's voice is still wobbling, and Steve can feel every single tremor running through his body.

"Yeah I do." Steve laughs softly. "So maybe we should both stop apologizing. But, Bucky. Listen, okay? I really am sorry." He sits back on his heels again, his heart is still pounding like a drum. "I just had a really bad nightmare."

He can still see that room, still see Bucky cowering against the wall. _Not unlike he is right now. _It's Steve's turn to shiver, and he rubs his arms, goosebumps breaking out despite the heat.

Bucky tilts his head, looks at Steve through long eyelashes. "I know what that's like."

"I know you do." Steve moves up next to him, sits down with a sigh. Their shoulders are touching, and Bucky doesn't move away.

"Steve - does – do you have nightmares often?" Bucky still looks rather like a kicked puppy, and he's looking at Steve as though he sort of expects Steve to hit him but he wants Steve's attention at the same time. Steve loops an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze.

"Not often. But often enough." He shakes his head, pushing away the last remnants of the dream, and instead turns to Bucky, who is still tense against his side.

"Let me see your neck."

"It's fine." Bucky immediately starts to move away, and Steve catches his arm.

"Let me take a look, okay? Just sit."

He reaches up and turns on the light, and they both squint in the sudden brightness as Steve turns back. He's struck for a second by how small Bucky looks in the lightened room, curled up against the wall.

_He can make himself really small when he wants to. _He doesn't want to think about how often Bucky has probably done that in the past.

He tilts up Bucky's chin and looks at the growing redness on his friend's throat, the shape of his hands clear on Bucky's pale skin, and guilt burns the back of his eyes. He touches the marks with slightly unsteady fingers, and Bucky doesn't move.

"It's okay, Steve," he says quietly. "You didn't mean to."

"Yeah, but..." Steve sighs heavily, pulling his hands back. "God. I could've hurt you really bad."

Bucky's face crumples a little, his eyes flooding again, and Steve suddenly realizes just how terrifying it must have been for Bucky to be attacked by the one person in the world who he trusts to _protect_ him. And he didn't even try and fight back.

_He could've hurt me too, if he wanted to. He could have thrown me off... I mean, one punch from that metal arm and I'd be off of him. But he didn't. _

Steve turns away, lets go of Bucky's chin, shame washing over him like a flood. _Oh God. Oh God. What did I do? _He drops his head, rubs his forehead, squeezes his eyes shut. _What might I have done if I didn't see his arm in time? _

Something cool and heavy settles over his shoulders only a moment later, and he jerks his head up, surprised. Bucky is very close to him, his metal arm laying over Steve's shoulders, and he leans his forehead against Steve's shoulder and sighs shakily.

"I'm fine," he says. "Don't worry." And even though his voice is still wobbling, Steve believes him. Mostly.

He's so impressed with Bucky's courage to be this close to him, initiating comfort when he was the one who was just attacked, that his eyes burn again. "Come here." He gently shifts Bucky's arm off his shoulders and pulls him into a hug instead, unable to stop himself from glancing at the red marks on Bucky's neck again as he does.

_They'll be bruises tomorrow. _

Bucky is trembling in his arms and feels slightly tense, but he doesn't pull away, and seems to want to be there.

"Are you okay?" Bucky's voice is muffled slightly in his shoulder, and Steve smiles. "I'm fine."

Bucky pulls away from him, slowly and carefully. His chin is down a little, he's looking at Steve out of the tops of his eyes. "Do you..." he hesitates, eyes flicking to the floor. Steve watches his metal hand on the carpet, the way his fingers curl into a fist and then relax. "Do you want to tell me your dream? I'll listen. I – I like listening."

Steve frowns, sighs, puts his back against the side of the bed. _I don't want you to hear about it, Buck. _"I appreciate the offer, Buck, but... not tonight. Maybe tomorrow..." He trails off vaguely.

Bucky nods, his dark eyes sad, and Steve has a feeling that Bucky already knows exactly what he was dreaming about. _"I j-just heard you... dreaming..."_

"Come on." He stands up quickly, climbs back onto his bed. "Let's get some sleep." He slides over so that Bucky can join him if he wants, the way they almost always do if the nightmares get that bad, but Bucky hesitates at the side of the bed, his eyebrows furrowed, glancing towards his own bed. Steve's chest hurts. _Is he afraid of me now? Did we take a step back here? _

Bucky heads over to his own bed, and Steve's heart sinks. _Okay, alright Rogers, you can't expect that you can almost strangle him and everything's just going to be A-okay. You'll fix this like everything else, maybe __–_

Bucky's pillow lands on the bed next to him, making him jump, and Bucky follows it, curling up closer to the edge of the bed than usual but he's still facing Steve and _he's still here._

"My pillow's better than the ones you have," Bucky mumbles, pulling the sheets right up to his chin, and Steve huffs out a laugh, reaching over to rub his arm and then retreating to his own side.

_We're okay. Breathe, Rogers. It's okay. _

He stays awake for the rest of the night, because he's just too scared that the dream will come back and he'll hurt Bucky. Every time he looks over at his friend – who is trusting him enough to _sleep _beside him - long hair sweeping in a dark fan across his cheek, he senses Bucky's fragility, reminds himself just how easily this all might be destroyed.

_But not as easily as I think, maybe, _he reminds himself. _He's here, isn't he? _

The next morning there are definite bruises around Bucky's throat, but they are not as bad as Steve imagined they would be – whether that has to do with his fast healing or if he didn't hurt him as much as he thought, he's not sure. But Bucky stays unusually close to him all day, as though reassuring him that it's okay and _he's _okay, and Steve is proud and grateful.

_I'll tell him one day. We're both in the same boat, kind of. But for now, I just need to focus on getting _him _better, and if he's better, I'll be better. That's the way it's always been and it's no different now. _

_x_

**Thoughts? Shall I continue? **

**Am I excessively mean for coming up with this chapter one night right before bed and grinning horribly because I knew I was going to make Steve hurt Bucky and I was excited to write it? *evil laughter*  
**

**Please please leave me a review and let me know what you thought! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well here we are, second chapter already! This one isn't as shameless as the last one, but it is very fluffy. There will be shameless hugging, but it doesn't happen until the end. Hopefully it's worth the wait. **

**It's weird, I almost felt like this chapter should have been added onto "First Hint of Spring" instead, but at the same time the whole thing was just so fluffy, so I put it here.  
**

**Must give a quick shout-out to FantasytoHeart, who suggested in a review for "First Hint of Spring" that I should write about Bucky's birthday. Here it is, hon! It's not exactly what you suggested, but**** it is inspired by it and I really, really hope you like it!**

**Warnings: Language, shameless fluff and hugging. Oh, it's fluffy. **

**x**

"I don't know what to do," Steve admits, running a hand through his hair.

He watches as Sam slides his drink back and forth across the table between his hands, back and forth, back and forth, and sighs. He glances toward the bedroom. He can see Bucky's feet from here, up on the bed.

_Today was not good. _

His friend had had severe nightmares last night, worse than he'd had in a while, and the result was a day of Bucky curled up on the couch, shivering constantly, pressed against Steve's side, unwilling to step outside or even move at all, really. His eyes had been dark all day, lost in memory and fear, and even though Steve had been holding him, he'd felt pretty damn helpless.

By the end of the day – well, not really the end, it was only 6 o'clock – Bucky had been so exhausted, he'd actually let Steve half-carry him to the bedroom – but he'd refused to sleep. So Steve had stayed with him, the two of them sitting on the bed like kids at a sleepover, talking (Steve mostly), watching as Bucky had slowly gone from sitting, to leaning back on his elbows, to fully laying down, and then finally drifting off. Steve had left the room silently, sitting in the living room in the growing darkness until Sam had texted, asking if he could come over.

Now they're sitting in the kitchen, Steve just finishing telling Sam about their day.

"You're doing all you can, Steve." Sam stops moving his glass.

"Well, sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough." Steve looks away, out the window.

"Steve."

Steve turns reluctantly. Sam's dark eyes are gentle, and Steve knows he understands. "There's only so much you can do. Some things – some things can't be fixed quickly. Some things arent even fixable. And I know you know that already, I'm not trying to say you don't. I'm just saying. But you're there for him, Steve, and that's what he needs. Just keep doing that. Be there for him." The setting sun throws pink and gold rays across Sam's face, and Steve blinks, looks away.

He glances toward the bedroom again, checking for any signs of movement. "You know his birthday is coming up?"

"Bucky's? Really?" Sam drinks the last of his Coke.

"Yeah. Friday." Steve rubs his jawline. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Have you told him about it?"

"No." Steve leans his elbows on the table, tents his fingers. "I don't know if I should bring it up."

"Why not?" Sam pushes his chair back quietly, goes to the recycling bin to throw out the can.

"I don't know." Steve looks out the window again. _I don't even know what it would mean to him anymore. I don't even know what _my _birthday means to me anymore. How old am I? Am I ninety-six years old or am I twenty-nine? Does it matter?_

Sam picks up his jacket. "I should get going. I've got a meeting in the morning."

Steve walks with him to the door, and right before he leaves, Sam taps the door frame and turns back. "Steve? You should tell him."

X

"You know, it's your birthday on Friday."

Steve's at the sink washing dishes, and Bucky's standing right next to him with the towel. It's two days since he brought it up with Sam – it's Tuesday now - and in that time he'd come to the decision that it's not about how old they are, it's not about if it matters, it's about what birthdays were always about – celebrating the day that that person came into the world. And _that_ is definitely something that still matters to him.

Bucky glances at him, his blue eyes sharp. "What? It is?"

"Yeah." Steve smiles at him, turns off the water. "So I was thinking we should do something to celebrate."

Bucky just stares at him, confused, so Steve gently takes the towel from him and finishes drying the dishes.

"I don't remember," he says after a moment, and Steve smiles again.

"That's okay. You don't have to. I remembered for you."

Bucky frowns, tucks his hair behind one ear. "How old am I?"

Steve laughs. "Well, that depends on if you count all those years you were frozen. If you do, you're..." he pauses, thinks about it. "Ninety-seven. If you don't, you're twenty-eight. Which means... hmm. I'm kind of older than you now. Wow, now that's weird."

Bucky is just staring at him, his eyebrows furrowed, and Steve wonders if it's all too much to take in at once.

"We don't have to do anything," he says quickly. "If you don't want. I just thought..."

"What did we do? Before." Bucky looks at the floor, and Steve wonders if he's trying to remember.

Steve leans against the door frame, shrugs. "Well – one year we went to Coney Island, and one year we just went for drinks at the bar. I think that was maybe the year you turned eighteen. Another time we went camping. Lots of stuff. Whatever you wanted to do at the time."

He watches Bucky's expression, but it doesn't really change. He still looks confused. "I don't know. I don't remember." He finally looks up, and Steve can see in his eyes that he's still lost in the nightmares from two nights ago.

"You don't have to know," he says quickly. "You've still got a few days. Or we don't have to do anything."

Bucky's eyes are dark, even in the sunlit kitchen, and he frowns at Steve. "I don't know."

X

They're watching TV later that night, and Steve is staunchly refusing to bring up the birthday subject again even though that's what he desperately wants to talk about. Bucky has been extremely quiet all day, and even now, sitting with his shoulder pressed up against Steve's, he doesn't look happy. Steve can't tell if it's from the nightmares or the birthday thing and he doesn't want to ask.

His phone rings, making them both jump, and he pats Bucky's foot as he stands up. "Be right back, Buck."

He goes out to the hallway. "Hello?"

"Hey Captain Crunch." Tony's voice sounds far away, Steve can hear a rushing noise in the back. _Driving? _

"Hi, Tony." Steve sighs, rubs his forehead. "What is it?"

"So good to hear your voice, too. Listen – so I heard it's the T1000's birthday on Friday and I'm sending over a little _prez. _Just giving you a heads up. Possibly the rest of our rock band might send something too."

Steve gapes into the phone for a good thirty seconds. "How did you know about that?" _Sam and Tony talk? T1000?_

"Do you really think Fury doesn't know everything about everything? He is the all-seeing eye. Get it? Cause he's got just – nevermind. Fury. Fury told me." A loud horn sounds in the back and Tony swears.

Steve can't think of what to say. "Uh. Wait. Okay. Tony, you don't have to –"

"Take a breath, Spangles. It's not a big deal. We're all friends. Anyway – I gotta go. Later."

The phone clicks off, and Steve stares at his phone in shock.

_Everybody else is sending presents and _I_ haven't even figured out what to get for him yet?_

X

Bucky is still quiet for the next couple of days, but whenever Steve asks him if he's okay, he insists he is. "I'm just thinking", is his reply every time, so Steve stops asking after a bit. Sometimes Bucky just sits on the couch, staring at the wall, and when he looks at Steve his eyes are a light, light blue.

_That's always a good thing. So hopefully he's thinking about good things. _

The first box gets there on Thursday evening, the day before Bucky's birthday. It's small, and addressed to "Sergeant James Barnes". There is no return address.

"It's for you," Steve says, holding it out, and Bucky, who is sitting on the floor in front of the couch reading a book, stares. He makes no move to take it.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Steve shakes it a little bit, there's no sound. "I think maybe it's a present."

Bucky puts down his book. "A present?" He's eyeing the box as if it might be a bomb.

"Yeah. Because – because it's your birthday tomorrow." Steve crouches down next to him, puts the box on the floor between them.

Bucky leans away slightly. "From who?"

"I don't know, actually. One of the Avengers." Steve turns the box over again. It could be from any one of them – none of them would leave a return address. _Except for possibly Tony._ _So we can rule out that it's from Tony. _"Do you want me to open it?" He asks gently after a moment, and after a moment's consideration, Bucky nods.

Steve opens it carefully, making sure Bucky can see what he's doing the whole time. Inside is a piece of paper, and underneath it a new cellphone, still in its box. Bucky stares openly as Steve picks up the paper and turns it over.

_Hi, Bucky. Happy Birthday. I know we haven't met properly yet, but I look forward to the day that we do. I thought you might like your own phone so you can stay in contact with Steve when he's not around. Steve has my number too, and all the other Avengers' numbers as well so if you want to call us for any reason, now you can. This phone isn't complicated, but it's a good one. I hope you like it. Natasha._

He hands the note to Bucky wordlessly, and Bucky reads it rapidly, then looks up at him. "Natasha?" he says after a moment, frowning. "The – the woman with red hair?"

"That's her." Steve smiles.

Bucky looks down at the phone. "I tried to kill her. Why would she send me this?" He pushes it away a little, and Steve pushes it back.

"Because you're past all that, Buck. She just wants to be friends now."

But Bucky still looks upset and won't touch the phone, so Steve puts the note back in the box and closes it, puts the whole thing up on the counter. _Later. _

The next time the doorbell rings, the postman has two more boxes – one large and flat, and one huge and square – plus two envelopes.

_Tony wasn't kidding. _ "It's for you, Buck," Steve calls.

He carries them into the living room and watches Bucky's mouth drop open in surprise. "From who?"

"Everybody else, I'd say."

Bucky stands up and comes over, and Steve watches his expression carefully. His eyes are slowly lightening as he looks at the boxes, although the rest of his face still looks confused.

"Open them," Steve says with a grin. _What the heck am I going to get him? His birthday is _tomorrow _and I still haven't got a single idea. _

"Will –" Bucky pauses, swallows, looks up at him. "Will you help me?"

Steve is tempted to say no, tell him that it's his first birthday in seventy-something years and he should open his gifts himself, but his friend's expression is so lost and confused he can't make himself do it. So he gets a box cutter and they sit on the floor in the living room together.

"Open these first." Steve hands him the two envelopes, and watches as Bucky opens the first one gingerly. He has to smile. Bucky's metal hand can be so careful and precise when he wants it to be.

The first card has a sad-looking puppy on the front, and the printed message "_Sorry I messed up"_. Huge loopy writing covers the inside of the card, squished in some spots because there wasn't enough room, and between them they manage to decipher it.

_Friend Barnes, I would like to apologize for our last meeting. I was not thinking. My brother says that I am a fool and I never think, but he is also a spoiled child. I would like to wish you a very happy Birth Day, and I hope we may meet soon, properly this time. Yours very respectfully, Thor Odinson._

Bucky frowns at the card, but his eyes lighten as he looks at the picture of the puppy. "The electric man?" He asks, looking at Steve sideways, and Steve nods.

"Yup, that's him." He wants to laugh, because in a way the puppy is a perfect representation of Thor, but he doesn't.

The second card is from Clint, and the first box they open – a big flat one - is from Sam. Inside are four records – Bing Crosby, The Andrews Sisters, Vera Lynn, and Glenn Miller. A note on top says _Happy Birthday Bucky! These are vintage records from the 1940s. Steve's already got a record player so you can definitely play them. I hope you like them! See you soon and have a great day! All my best, Sam._

Bucky doesn't say anything, but he takes each of the records out of the box and puts them on the floor around him. His eyes are soft, and his right hand lingers on each of them for a long time. Steve blinks and finds he has to swallow hard several times.

The second box is the huge one, and there isn't any question who sent it, because there's a big picture of Tony's face taped to the outside with a speech bubble photoshopped onto it that reads "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKSTER".

Bucky makes a face at the picture, but he looks like he wants to laugh, too, and Steve sighs.

Bucky opens this one himself, and to Steve's horror it is full of Captain America merchandise. T-shirts, baseball caps, socks, hoodies, bed sheets – even a teddy bear holding a Captain America shield.

"Oh man." Steve rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. "Sorry, Buck, he's so annoying. I can't believe..."

But to his surprise, Bucky's eyes are shining, and he's smiling for the first time in days. He lifts out one of the t-shirts – a red one with Steve's shield in the middle – and holds it up to his chest. "I love all of it."

Steve gapes. "Really?"

"Yeah." Bucky grins at him, his eyes fond, and sits back against the couch with one of the hoodies in his lap.

Steve flushes, embarrassed but pleased, and the doorbell rings again.

The man at the door is not the postman, but he is holding a box. "Hi. Delivery for James Barnes?"

"Oh yeah – thanks. He's here." Steve takes the box, which is square and white. "Hold it flat," the guy says, and heads down the steps. Steve stares after him for a moment and then brings it inside. "One more," he says, putting it carefully onto the table, and Bucky stares from the floor.

"Really? Open it."

It's a cake. A big white and blue cake with _Happy Birthday Bucky _written on the top in red, and there's a card on top of the whole thing, which Steve hands to Bucky.

Steve thinks Bucky's hands are shaking a little bit as he opens it, and his chest feels tight watching him.

"It's from Bruce," Bucky says after a moment, and then he just stares at the cake for a long time.

X

The cake goes in the fridge for the next day, and Bucky sits on the couch next to Steve, surrounded by his gifts, looking completely blown away.

"Why?" he asks after a bit. "Why would they do that?"

"Because they're your friends. And they care about you." Steve can't stop smiling. He mentally makes a note to text every one of them tonight and say thank you.

"Can you – would you please tell them I say thank you?" Bucky leans down and picks up the Bing Crosby record, turns it over. "Or maybe I can – text – them – if you show me how."

Steve realizes he's grinning way too big. "Sure, Buck. I'll show you how to text them, no problem."

"Thank you." Bucky leans down and picks up the Captain America teddy bear, putting it on the arm of the couch and looking at it. "I know what I want to do for my birthday."

X

The Smithsonian is cool and dark, exactly how it always is, and both Steve and Bucky wear ball caps and long-sleeved jackets. They head straight for the Captain America exhibit.

The museum is thankfully fairly empty, but Steve can feel the nervous energy rolling off Bucky as they walk in. He knows that Bucky hasn't been here since before he came back to Steve. That was months and months ago.

He'd told Steve last night – _"I want to go back to the museum. With you this time. Would you come with me?" _

Steve can't think of anything in the world he'd rather be doing.

The last time he was here, he'd still thought Bucky was dead. No, he'd still_ known _Bucky was dead. _Oh, how things change. _

They drift through, past the pictures of Steve by himself, Bucky's eyes lingering on the picture of pre-serum Steve, and stop in front of the mural of the Howling Commandos.

Everything looks new to Steve. He still feels sad, looking at it all, but it's not the same. Looking at everything with Bucky next to him feels... different. Like he's looking at a photo album, or a yearbook. Something they shared. Rather than before, when it was just something lonely, something that he sometimes wondered if actually existed at all because he was the only one who remembered it.

But now... he looks at Bucky and Bucky is staring up at the mural, hungrily taking in all the faces. Steve glances at the Captain America mannequin, still missing its costume. There's a piece of paper taped on it, it says "We're working on it". Steve smirks.

Bucky is clearly looking at it too. "You were wearing that uniform, weren't you? On the helicarrier."

Steve nods. They haven't talked about this at all. It's a subject they've avoided, always skipping over it when it got too close for comfort, changing the course of the conversation abruptly if they needed to, all in order to not talk about it. "Yes I was."

"I remember." Bucky's eyes slide to the right, to the Sergeant James Barnes mannequin in its blue jacket, and linger there.

They go into one of the dark rooms. It's playing clips of the Howling Commandos - running into battle, standing around maps, just talking – and they sit silently and watch. Steve's seen all of the clips hundreds of times, but he watches them with new eyes now, tries to see them from Bucky's point of view.

He glances at his friend, sitting next to him on the bench, and Bucky's eyes are dark under the brim of his hat. He's watching the Bucky on the screen with an intensity that makes Steve's chest hurt.

"I don't remember that stuff," he says quietly, and Steve shrugs.

"That's okay. You will."

Bucky doesn't reply for a bit. "I don't feel like I'm ninety-seven."

Steve laughs sadly. "Neither do I. Trust me, you're not alone."

They go back out, walking through the rest of the exhibit and stopping at the Bucky Barnes section. It doesn't matter that Bucky is standing next to him, alive and well (mostly). Looking at the pictures of Bucky, reading the words in memoriam and seeing the "1917-1944" still makes his throat tighten and his eyes burn.

Bucky just looks up at his photo, his eyebrows furrowed, and then drops his gaze to the videos playing nearby.

Steve follows his gaze, blinks hard when he sees the clip of him and Bucky laughing together. It's both his favourite clip and the worst one at the same time. It always reminded him of what he had, but more of what he lost.

"He –" Bucky pauses, looks down at the floor for a second. "I – look happy there."

Steve clears his throat. "You were. We both were."

Bucky stands and watches the clip play, over and over again, and Steve just stands there next to him.

" I like that video," Bucky says after a while, and his voice has a slight quiver.

Steve blinks. "Yeah. I like it too."

They start to leave after that. They don't discuss it, they just start back through the exhibit. Bucky pauses suddenly next to the Howling Commandos mural, and Steve turns back too. Bucky is looking up at the mannequins again, and his eyes are sad.

"I think I liked that jacket," he says quietly.

Steve shifts his weight, bites his lip. "You did. You liked it a lot."

The air is cool as they leave, the sun almost gone, and they walk back to the car in silence, close enough that their shoulders brush each other every now and then.

X

He waits until Bucky's had breakfast the next morning, and is sitting on the couch - slowly, slowly tapping out a "thank you" message to Tony on Steve's cellphone - and then he goes to the guest bedroom and opens the closet. The box is buried underneath his shield and a bunch of other stuff, just in case Bucky went into this closet for any reason.

_Why didn't I think to buy wrapping paper? Stupid! _

He sighs, puts the box down on the bed, and looks at it for a long time. It's just a plain brown box he'd found in the recycling and re-folded, but it'll have to do.

_I hope I did the right thing. _

He carries it out into the living room. Bucky is still sitting on the couch, his eyebrows drawn together, staring incredulously at the phone. "Steve, I can't figure this –" He looks up and stops talking abruptly.

"One more," Steve says casually, but his chest is tight.

"Another one? From who?" Bucky looks puzzled, and he puts Steve's phone down onto the arm of the couch.

Steve clears his throat. "From me. Sorry it's late. I kind of... just got it."

Bucky's eyes lighten, and he drops his chin. "You – you didn't have to, Steve, I –"

"No, I wanted to." Steve walks over, holds out the box. "Here. I really hope you like it."

Bucky looks up at him, and his eyes are shiny. "Thank you, Steve." He takes it carefully, sets it down on the coffee table, and looks at it for a long moment. Steve hovers beside the couch awkwardly, his heart pounding as Bucky unfolds the top of the box with care.

Steve thinks suddenly that he wishes he'd wrapped it in paper, or something, and then abruptly he stops thinking about any of that, because Bucky sees what's inside and his face goes blank.

Steve bites his nail and watches, his heart sinking slightly. "Buck? I'm sorry it's not new like your other gifts, I just thought..." He trails off.

Bucky is just staring down into the box, and his face isn't changing at all. He reaches in with one hand and touches the soft blue material, and then he looks up at Steve, and there are tears in his eyes. "It's – it's mine?" His voice is trembling. "I can keep it?"

"Yeah, Buck. It's all yours." Steve blinks hard. "It doesn't belong in a museum. Not when its owner is... here."

He watches as Bucky reaches into the box and lifts out the folded up jacket, lets it fall open in front of him. He stares at it for a long time, his shining eyes roaming hungrily over the folded collar, the buttons down the front. After a bit he leans over and carefully lays it on the couch next to him, then stands abruptly.

Steve smiles, starts to speak, but then he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Bucky Barnes. Bucky is holding him so tight it's actually a bit hard to breathe, but Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and squeezes right back.

"Thank you." Bucky's voice is muffled in Steve's shoulder, and he feels his friend's chest hitch. "Thank you so much, Steve."

He's crying, Steve can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, and he has to blink hard to keep his own tears back.

"I'm so glad you like it, Buck." He squeezes him even closer, rubs a hand down his back. "I'm so glad."

Bucky makes a funny sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and presses his face into Steve's shoulder.

They stand like that for a long time, until Bucky pulls away slowly, his eyes red from crying, but shining too, in a good way.

Steve rests his hand on the side of Bucky's neck and smiles. "Are you going to try it on?"

Bucky looks down at the jacket, and his chin is still trembling.

_It's as if he's looking at a ghost... I guess he kind of is. _

"Yeah." Bucky strokes the collar with his metal hand, and then picks it up. It's already unbuttoned from when Steve took it off the mannequin, so Bucky just slips it on over his t-shirt (one of the new Captain America ones Tony got for him) and it settles on his shoulders as easily as the day it was bought, seventy-something years ago.

Steve rubs his jaw, feels the tears trying to make a comeback. _My turn to look like I've seen a ghost. _

They go to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror, and Bucky slowly does up the buttons. "It fits perfectly," he says quietly, his voice only quivering a little, and Steve stands next to him and just stares openly at Bucky's reflection.

"Yeah it does. Still."

Bucky reaches up suddenly and pulls his hair back, and it takes Steve's breath away.

_I could be in 1944, right now. I could be standing beside Bucky when he first got that jacket. But it's not true. Not really. Is it? He doesn't look exactly the same. He's changed. His eyes the most._

Bucky lets his hair fall back again, but he can't seem to stop staring at his reflection. "I love it," he says. "It's the best present of them all. Thank you, Steve. Thank you so much."

Steve smiles. He thinks of the museum staff, wondering what the hell is happening to their Captain America exhibit, imagines the Bucky mannequin with a "we're working on it" sign taped on it, too. _We don't belong in a museum. We are living legends. They'll find out soon._ He drapes his arm across Bucky's shoulders, grins at him in the mirror.

"Happy Birthday, Bucky."

x

**A quick few notes - **

**The math I did on Steve's age, and him being "older than Bucky now" is because I was thinking - he was thawed out in 2012, so technically he aged a couple of years in that time, while Bucky wouldn't have. Hopefully that makes sense LOL I confused myself while writing it. **

**Also - I can't figure out what Bucky's blue jacket is made of. I read somewhere before that it was leather, but every picture I saw of it it REALLY doesn't look like leather, so I just kind of didn't mention what it was made of other than some soft material.  
**

**And - I don't know the exact date of Bucky's birthday - the only one I found when I searched was March 10th, and I wasn't sure if it was right, so I just didn't put a concrete date. **

**Final thing - if you want to read about the whole incident that Thor was apologizing for in his card, it happened in chapter 4 of my other story, "First Hint of Spring".**

**I hope you guys liked it!  
**

**Please leave me a review on your way out and let me know. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**First, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! You guys just make my life. :D **

**This chapter went through a billion and a half re-writes, I swear. But I think I'm mostly happy with how it turned out now, so I really hope you guys like it too. It's so funny - apparently I cannot write fluff without injecting a little angst as well. It seems I'm incapable of it. BUT this chapter is way fluffier than the last one. The last bit of this one - I swear if you put it on a stick, it would look like cotton candy.  
**

**I want to say a huge thanks to tflover2.0, who sent me some wonderful ideas for future chapters! I appreciate it so much, hon! :D I used your idea of them watching a movie in this chapter. :D It's not the entire chapter, but it is during the really fluffy part of it! I hope you like it! I will definitely be using more of your ideas later on. :)**

**Warnings: Language and shameless, shameless cuddling at the end. I am shameless.  
**

**NO SLASH still, and there never will be.**

**I own nothing.**

**x**

"I don't remember fireworks." Bucky's eyebrows are furrowed. "Did I like fireworks?"

They're coming back from their morning run, walking easily side by side, and Steve is worrying.

"Yeah, you did," he replies, trying to figure out how to explain fireworks to Bucky. No matter which way he puts it, they're not going to sound like a good thing. _Exploding... gunpowder... loud... pretty?_

"So maybe I'll still like them now." Bucky steps closer and nudges Steve with his shoulder. It's the metal one - uncovered completely because Bucky is wearing a wifebeater - and Steve glances admiringly at it before looking up at Bucky, who is all smiles and sunshine. His eyes are palest blue, hair tied back off away from his face, skin glowing with health – Steve has to smile back.

"You might," he concedes, not adding on _But I highly doubt it, _which is what he's really thinking. _Big bright exploding things that sound like gunfire or bombs? Yeah. Not likely._

It's July 4th, and for the past week he's done nothing but worry about how Bucky's going to deal with the fireworks. He knows from living in the same apartment last year that most of his neighbours set off fireworks on Independence Day, _and _there's of course all the fireworks displays going on in the city and at the monument, which is pretty close by.

Bucky used to love fireworks. He used to drag Steve out to every event that was having fireworks, and _especially _Independence Day. Steve can still remember the look in Bucky's eyes when he'd watch the fireworks – he'd turned into a kid again, bright-eyed and fascinated - he was always in awe of them, right up into his 20s.

But now? He's not so sure.

Steve had left his phone at home when they went for their run, and it's ringing as he unlocks the door.

"Hello?" He props the phone between his shoulder and ear, taking a couple of water bottles from the fridge at the same time and tossing one to Bucky, who catches it easily with his metal hand and smiles his thanks.

"_Hey buddy. It's your day! Man. I feel like I'm talking to the great country of America itself right now. Oh, say can you see –"_

"Tony. What is it?" Steve leans against the fridge, takes a long drink of water.

Bucky, sitting on the couch, raises his eyebrows at Steve and smiles. He knows full well how irritating Steve finds Tony sometimes. Steve rolls his eyes in reply.

"_Well I'm having a little Fourth of July shindig at my crib tonight, and you should come. And bring your puppy."_ There's a loud _clunk _in the background, and Tony sighs. _"Oh sure, don't even worry about it. I didn't need that anyway. Jeez." _

Steve ducks out of the room quickly. "Tony, I'm actually trying to _avoid _Fourth of July stuff. I don't know how fireworks are gonna go over with Bucky. I really don't think it's a good idea for us to come to _New York_ on July 4th."

"_And you're gonna be better off there? In Washington? Right next to the freaking monument practically?"_ Tony laughs loud and long, which Steve feels is unnecessary. _"Steve. Hey."_ His voice drops abruptly, suddenly lower, and Steve listens. _"I don't like fireworks either, okay? Little secret of mine. They don't bring back great memories. I know right, so surprising. I actively avoid them. But here's the thing – they have them in Central Park, but not really super near me. There's too many tall buildings. Yeah you can hear them, but it's probably better than your place. And hey. If your little bundle of joy is afraid, why don't you come over here and we can all be scared together? Might be easier in a group." _

Steve is quiet for a moment. _I can't believe Tony was just serious for about thirty seconds there. _The thing is, he could hear the vulnerability creep into Tony's voice when he started talking about fireworks, and he knows he's not kidding around. He knows full well that Tony suffers from PTSD too. In a weird way, his invitation makes sense.

"Who else is going to be there?" He leans back and glances at Bucky, who is looking down at the coffee table, playing with the cap on his water bottle, but Steve knows he's listening.

"_Oh you know. The usual suspects. Bruce is already here, Natasha and Clint are driving up in a few hours. Nothing huge is happening. Might watch some movies, have some drinks. Just pals. Whatcha think?"_ Steve hears him drop a wrench or something else metal, and curse.

He goes back into the living room, sinks down onto the couch next to Bucky, who glances at him over his shoulder. "Let me talk to Bucky, and I'll text you, all right?"

"_Sure thing. See you tonight, Spangles."_ Tony hangs up.

Steve frowns and tosses his cellphone aside. _I didn't say we were going yet. _

"What did he want?" Bucky pulls the hair tie from his hair and lets it fall loose around his shoulders, watching Steve carefully all the while. His blue eyes are guarded.

"He's having a get-together at Stark Tower and he invited us. I said I'd ask you." Steve shrugs. "We don't have to go though, if you don't want to."

"Is he going to have fireworks?" Bucky's comment sounds off-hand, but Steve catches the hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"No. He's not." Steve gently bumps Bucky's foot with his. "Natasha, Clint, and Bruce will be there too."

At the mention of Natasha, Bucky's eyes go hard. She is one of the few Avengers Bucky hasn't met yet, and he's never seemed to want to, either. Steve knows she makes him nervous because he tried to kill her, and also because she tried to kill him, and nothing that Steve's told him about her has seemed to help much.

"Do you want to go?" Bucky asks, and he meets Steve's gaze unwaveringly.

"That doesn't matter. If you don't –"

"It's not just about me," Bucky interrupts him quietly, and he bumps Steve's foot back with his own now. His eyes are slightly sad.

Steve wants to say _Everything is about you_, but he doesn't. He thinks it'll either be a really good thing to be around Tony, sharing fears, or it'll be a really bad thing. He must hesitate for a bit too long, because Bucky stands up.

"Let's go, Steve."

So that's how Steve ends up in his room packing overnight bags, Tony's last text of _It's gonna be a partayyyyyy _hovering behind his eyes. _I swear this better turn out well, Tony, or I'm gonna strangle you. _

"Buck, you should pack a hoodie or something, I heard it might get cool tonight." Steve shoves a hoodie into his own bag beside his pajamas and shaving kit. "And if it doesn't get cool outside, it still might be freezing in Stark Tower cause of the damn air conditioning."

Bucky, who was in the bathroom packing his own toothbrush and razor, comes in immediately and tosses Steve a blue Captain America hoodie, which a second ago was laying on his bed. Steve catches it easily, feeling the warm rush of affection he always does when Bucky wears something with his shield on it.

X

They get to Tony's place around seven o'clock that evening, and as they're taking their bags out of the car, Tony's voice makes them both jump.

"Hey, party people!" He's leaning out of a window on the third floor of Stark Tower, waving. "Glad you could make it! Come on up. Party's on the top floor, yeahhh!"

Steve sighs heavily. _I swear, Tony..._

When they get in the elevator, Steve stands with his back against the wall, and Bucky stands in the gap between the back wall and Steve, which is impressive because it's not very big, so he's kind of pressed against Steve's arm – furthest spot away from the door, too.

Steve nudges him gently, catches his eye. "You all right?"

Bucky nods, but he keeps looking at the floor, and when he does glance up, Steve can see the growing fear in his eyes. He smiles reassuringly. "It'll be fine, Buck. Promise."

As soon as they step out of the elevator, Steve spots Natasha. She's sitting on the couch with Clint, and looks up immediately as they walk in. Bucky has clearly seen her as well, and instantly drops a few steps behind Steve, his head down.

"Hey, Nat." Steve offers a grin as she approaches, but also sends furious eye-signals, which she probably doesn't need thanks to Bucky's body language.

"Hi, Cap." She hesitates, her eyes flicking to Bucky, who is almost directly behind Steve now. Steve wonders quickly if Bucky is hoping Natasha won't see him.

"Buck." Steve steps back and sideways, smoothing his hand down Bucky's jacket, letting it rest at the small of his back. "This is Natasha Romanoff."

Bucky's eyes are a mix of fear and warning, a hard, cold blue that Steve hasn't seen in a while, and he finds that his hand on Bucky's back is prepared to hold him back almost as much as it is to comfort him.

But Natasha holds out her hand immediately, her posture relaxed and non-threatening. "Hi, Bucky. It's nice to meet Steve's best friend finally. I've heard a lot about you."

Steve thinks maybe her confidence is partially thanks to Clint standing only inches behind her, his eyes trained solidly on Bucky, but either way, it doesn't matter.

Bucky's eyes drop to her hand warily, and he glances at Steve quickly, as if to reassure himself. Steve smiles, and Bucky takes her hand. "Hi." The warning has mostly dissipated from his gaze, and now he just looks shy.

"Everybody introduced? Everybody happy? Anybody want a drink?" Tony steps out of the elevator behind them, closely followed by Bruce, who looks tired and mildly amused. Tony's wearing an AC/DC shirt, and already carrying a glass of some sort of amber liquid. "I say we get this party started."

X

They're standing at the bar talking to Bruce when it happens. It's late, around ten o'clock, and Steve is in the middle of telling Bruce what they've been up to lately when he suddenly senses Bucky go still next to him. He doesn't even actually see anything, he just feels a difference, and stops talking mid-sentence. "Buck?"

Bucky is looking at the counter top, and he is so still, he looks more like a statue than a living, breathing man.

Steve puts a hand on his arm, turns to face him completely. "Bucky, what's wrong?" He's vaguely aware of Bruce moving away behind him.

Bucky's gaze flicks up to his face, but the rest of him doesn't move an inch. "Did you hear that?"

"No. What did you hear?" Steve is very aware that despite both of them talking very quietly, Natasha, Clint, and Tony are all immediately tense, looking their way and trying to look like they're not. And Bruce is pretty much gone.

Bucky holds his eyes, his gaze warning. _Listen. _

Steve doesn't move, straining his ears. After a few moments, he hears a very faint _boom. _His first thought, quite honestly, is _mortars. _But almost immediately his mind translates the sound to _fireworks _and he relaxes somewhat.

"It's fireworks, Bucky. They're starting up." He glances at his watch quickly. "Yup, it's about the right time."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up almost comically. "That was fireworks?"

Tony gives up the pretense of not listening. "I can't even hear them, what are you guys hearing? You guys have pretty impressive hearing for being so damn old."

Steve ignores him. "It's all right, Buck." He pats Bucky's back, studies his friend's face carefully. _He doesn't seem too freaked out. Yet, anyway. _

And he is fine for a while, but pretty quickly the fireworks get louder and more frequent, and Bucky moves closer and closer until he is pressed so tight against Steve's side that Steve can't even move properly.

"Are – are you sure it's just fireworks?" He's glancing at the doors, his metal hand in a fist, and Steve quickly scoops an arm around him, pulls him closer.

"I'm one hundred percent sure. It's okay."

"Hey, want to go up to the roof and see them?" Clint is already standing up, and Natasha follows him. "Maybe it would help to see what's making that noise. Would it, Bucky?" Clint raises his eyebrows.

Bucky looks at Steve for an answer, and Steve frowns. _Would it? _He tries to think of all the possible outcomes of taking Bucky up on top of Stark Tower to watch things explode in the sky. _In all honesty, it might help for him to see they're just harmless... and it might bring back memories. Don't rush him, Steve... odds are more bad things than good will happen. _

Images of Bucky freaking out on the rooftop – hundreds of feet off the ground – make him shiver suddenly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he says quickly, and Clint nods.

"Okay. Just asking. Nat and I are gonna go, though."

Steve rubs his jawline, looking away, and they leave the room.

Only seconds later, Bucky touches his arm lightly. "Steve?" His voice is low, purposely pitched so the others can't hear. "Maybe... do you think maybe it would help me to see them? Maybe if I just – I don't know." He shrugs, running a hand through his hair quickly. "Should I? And maybe... maybe I'll remember them."

Steve's stomach swoops at the thought, the thought of Bucky _remembering _fireworks, the thought that maybe something good could come out of this, the thought of seeing Bucky look up into the sky in awe again. _Who am I to say no? _

"Do you want to?" Steve asks him seriously.

Bucky's eyebrows go up in the middle, his eyes flicking away to his left hand, glinting blue on the counter top under the lights. "I'm not sure. I think – I think I do? But – will you – will you come with me? Please?"

Pride in Bucky's courage makes warmth gather in his chest, and he smiles. "Of course I will, Buck."

They walk to the elevator together, and as it goes up to the roof, Bucky's fingers catch his sleeve and hold on. Steve is careful not to shake his hand off as they leave the elevator.

The night has gotten cool, just as Steve predicted, and he feels goosebumps spread immediately across his arms as they cross the roof. _Should've grabbed my hoodie, this shirt is too light._

Bucky is shivering too, he can feel it just through his grip on his sleeve, but he's pretty sure it's not for the same reason. Not all of it, anyway.

Natasha and Clint are at the far side of the roof, and Steve is just trying to decide if he and Bucky should join them or not when a huge firework - red, blue and white - explodes in the sky over Central Park, and Bucky jerks back instantly, pulling Steve's arm with him. Steve grabs for him desperately, catches his elbow and pulls him back. "It's okay, Buck! It's okay."

In the dim light he can see Bucky's eyes are blown wide with fear, and he's breathing rapidly all of a sudden, pulling at Steve's grip in an effort to get away.

"Buck! Bucky. It's all right. Nothing's gonna hurt you. I promise," Steve croons, pulling him in close, trying to give him something to anchor himself on, and Bucky's right hand grips the front of his shirt immediately.

"I don't – I don't like it," he says in a raw voice, the trace of a whimper behind it, but he goes still against Steve's side, trusting him despite his fear.

"Do you want to leave? Say the word and we'll go back inside. Just tell me, Buck." Steve actually can't see his face that well because Bucky is so close to him, but he feels Bucky's fast breathing on his neck, and in his mind he's already heading back inside.

But then – "No. Not – not yet." Bucky's grip on his shirt doesn't ease up, but he isn't trying to pull away, either.

Before Steve can ask if he's sure, three more fireworks go off, pink, blue and green, arcing far out into the sky over the buildings, and Bucky's hand twists so tightly into the front of his shirt Steve's sure it's going to tear. He presses his hand onto Bucky's back and waits. "It's nothing, Buck. They're just... harmless."

Bucky shudders against him, but he pulls away just a little bit, and Steve can see his face now. He's staring up into the sky with wide eyes, his expression a mix of fear and fascination. He's still trembling, but Steve can sense something changing, something...

"Do you –" Bucky stops, clears his throat. "Do you remember... I remember something. A – maybe – flare?" He looks at Steve, eyes narrowed, trying to remember, and Steve blinks. "Is that what it was called? I remember..." He trails off at Steve's expression. "No?"

"No, Buck – I mean, yes. Yes, it's a flare you're thinking of." Steve takes a deep breath. "They were used during the war... to signal where to attack." _That's not exactly what I was hoping he'd remember. _

Now that Bucky mentions it, he can see the similarity, and for a brief moment he's back in the forest, watching a single flare arc overhead, and waiting, just waiting for the mortar shells. He shivers, the memory undimmed by the years between.

They stay for a bit longer, watching the fireworks in silence, and when the screamers start to go off, they both decide at the same time that that's enough.

X

"Okay, I've waited long enough." Tony walks over from the bar, holding up his drink. "I want to watch a damn movie. Are you guys ready to do that? Seriously. That's what I called all of you for, anyway." He winks rather obviously, and points at the TV. "So? Suggestions? Come on, I'm not hosting the party _and _doing all the work. You guys can do something too."

Steve sighs. He and Bucky are sitting on one of Tony's older couches, worn and soft from age. He much prefers it to new leather, and Bucky is already getting comfy too, pulling his feet up onto the sofa and curling up.

"I can't help you with that," Steve says, and Tony waves a hand at him dismissively.

"Not you, Il Capitano. Someone who actually _knows_ about movies after the stone age."

Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky, who is still looking a bit shaken from the fireworks, and has been slightly distant ever since they went up to the roof. Bucky smiles faintly at him anyway.

There's still the almost constant sound of fireworks outside, and Bucky's mind definitely seems to be on it – whether because he's scared of them or he's remembering the war and that's bothering him – Steve can't tell. He's also still avoiding looking at Natasha, and Steve knows he still doesn't trust her. _Can't blame him. _All in all there's definitely an air of tension around him, and Steve wonders if it was the best idea to bring him here.

"How about _Jurassic Park_?" Tony waves the DVD in the air. "I haven't seen it in _forever_ and ten years. Bruce? Come on. Help me out here." He nudges Bruce with his foot, and Bruce shrugs.

"I don't know, Tony, to be honest I haven't watched that many movies either –"

Tony cuts him off, his dark eyes wide. "Okay, stop right there before I start crying. You're killing me. You haven't seen _Jurassic Park?_ We're watching it. Seriously."

"I could go for that," Clint says, lifting his beer in a salute, and Natasha nods too.

"Is everybody down for that though?" Her gaze flicks over towards Bucky, and Steve frowns.

"I don't know, Tony."

He has actually seen Jurassic Park – it's one of the movies that Tony _insisted _he watch not long after the whole New York incident – and although he enjoyed it very much – _it kind of blew my mind, actually_ - he's not sure if it's all that appropriate for watching with Bucky.

"What's it about?" Bucky asks, looking suddenly interested.

"Dinosaurs!" Tony replies, grinning. "Super cool _dinosaurs, _Buckster."

"Dinosaurs?" Bucky's eyes have started shining. He looks quickly at Steve. "Really?"

Steve wants to laugh. He has a sudden memory of watching _The Lost World _with Bucky when they were kids, watching the dinosaurs fighting and the one with the long neck falling over the cliff. _We were in awe of that film... Bucky especially. That was a long time ago._

"Buck, do you remember watching _The Lost World?" _he asks, and Bucky frowns at him.

"I'm not sure – I remember something. I remember liking dinosaurs. Was it... black and white?"

"Yeah." Steve really does laugh now, he wonders what Tony would say if he suggested watching that one.

"Can we watch this one? Please?" Bucky looks so hopeful, the other Avengers can't help but exchange smiles.

"These dinosaurs aren't the same, Buck. These ones look real." Steve is worrying again, trying to work out if there's anything in the movie that could possibly be a trigger.

"The other ones looked real too," Bucky frowns a little. "I think they did, anyway."

"He'll be fine!" Tony points at Steve. "Have a little faith! Let the kid watch it! He wants to, right, Bucky?"

Steve gives him a look of death as Bucky's eyebrows lower, he glances at Steve quickly.

_I guess I can't really think of any reason not to watch it... and it has stopped him thinking about the war, or fireworks, or whatever it is that was bugging him._

"Okay, I guess," Steve shrugs, and Bucky shoots him a smile so bright, Steve can't help grinning back.

X

He knows he made the right decision when, twenty minutes later, the first dinosaur shows up and Bucky's mouth drops open, his eyes widening, awe written all across his face. "How did they – do that?" He glances quickly at Steve. "They didn't... actually bring back dinosaurs, did they? They didn't –"

Tony laughs and launches into an explanation about something called CGI and animatronics and all kinds of other things that make absolutely no sense to him, and Steve lets him handle it, still smiling over Bucky's reaction.

However, despite his initial amazement at the dinosaurs – and his disappointment at finding out they weren't actually real - Bucky's mind is clearly still more on the sound of the fireworks outside, and by ten-thirty, they seem to be wearing on his nerves more and more.

Steve's beginning to notice that Bucky isn't really concentrating on the movie anymore, his eyes keep flicking towards the window, where occasionally there is a slight glimpse of a bright spark in the sky. After a particularly large, deep _boom _that almost makes the tower tremble, Bucky abruptly shifts closer to him, eyes wide, and Steve puts a hand on the side of his neck.

"You okay, Buck?" he says, keeping his voice low.

Bucky's eyes are wide. "Are they getting louder?"

"I don't think so. I think that was just a big one. Maybe it was the last one." He rubs Bucky's arm with one hand, and the skin under his fingers is ice cold. "You're cold, Buck. Do you want to get your hoodie?"

Bucky looks at the window instead of answering, watching as a pink glow lights up the sky to the left.

"I'll get it." Steve gets up, and Bucky instantly grabs his arm, lightning-fast. "Where are you going?" His blue eyes are dark, flicking for a second to Natasha, who is sitting silently on the couch next to Clint, not paying attention to them in the slightest – or not appearing to, anyway.

"Just to get your hoodie. It's okay. I'll be right back, Buck." He smiles reassuringly and heads to their bedroom, digging through Bucky's overnight bag until he finds the Captain America hoodie he packed earlier.

When he goes back out into the living room, Bucky's moved to curl against the side of the couch, as though he couldn't stand sitting in the middle of the couch with nothing to lean against. He immediately lifts his head as Steve approaches, and his eyes are pleading. Steve frowns and sinks down onto the right side of the couch, stretches his arm out along the back.

"You okay, Buck?"

Bucky's forehead is crinkled, eyebrows furrowed, eyes big and dark. Steve can tell from here that he's shivering.

_Nerves from being left alone? The fireworks? Cold? A combination of all of them? _

He holds out his arm. "C'mere."

Bucky does not need to be told twice, and shifts across quickly towards him. Steve pulls him against his side briefly, ruffles his hair with one hand. "It's okay, Buck. Here, I brought your hoodie. Put it on, you're freezing."

Bucky pulls it over his head without a word, wrapping his arms around himself after he has it on, shivering still. "Thanks," he says softly, and he looks away at the windows again. Steve nudges him gently.

"Hey. Talk to me. What's wrong? Are the fireworks bugging you?"

Bucky sighs quietly. "I don't know. Yes. I guess so. There's just... I feel like..." He hesitates, looking warily past Steve toward where the other Avengers are. "I'm trying to remember something, and it just won't... come back. Something about the flares, I think. And I can see something else bright, something blue..."

He rubs the back of his neck in frustration, and Steve frowns sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Buck, I don't know what that might have been." _Blue? _

Bucky frowns too, and then abruptly turns toward him and leans his forehead on Steve's shoulder. "I wish it would come back." His voice is slightly muffled, and Steve tips his head to hear him. "But at the same time... I kind of don't want to remember. I think it was something bad, 'cause – I'm afraid of it. Just that piece of a memory."

Steve instinctively wraps an arm around him, even though regrettably a memory is not something he can protect Bucky from. "Don't think about it then. Not now. It'll come back by itself later."

"Yeah." Bucky sighs again. "Steve..."

"What is it, Buck?" Steve looks down at the top of his head. _Tell me how to help you, Buck. _

"I'm so _tired." _There's just the faintest trace of a tremor in Bucky's voice, and Steve can't tell whether he's talking about _now_, or _always. _

"Then go to sleep. I've got you," he offers, and Bucky seems to take his words to heart. He lays down on the couch quite suddenly, curling on his right side, close enough that he can lean his head on Steve's leg, and Steve smiles, surprised but pleased. He reaches down to rub Bucky's arm, and Bucky leans into him a little more.

After a few moments, in which Steve thinks Bucky is falling asleep, he suddenly speaks. "I think maybe... I think the blue thing... it was when they caught me. I think."

Steve stiffens, his hand going still on Bucky's arm. "When they caught you?"

"Yeah." Bucky shivers, and Steve knows it's not from the cold this time.

He finds he's clenching his jaw. He wants to ask a million questions – _Which time? At the bottom of the cliff after the train, or the first time? What was the blue thing? The Tesseract? _But Bucky doesn't volunteer any more information, and he isn't going to to make him talk about it if he doesn't want to.

Having apparently remembered enough to satisfy him for now, Bucky has gone comfortingly heavy against him, beginning to relax. Steve leans his head back against the couch and yawns into one hand, knowing he'll have to be content with that much information for now, as well.

The fireworks have all but stopped outside, and even though the movie is only halfway through, almost no one is watching anymore. Tony is leaning his head on one hand, blinking slowly at the TV, and Bruce is already asleep, his head tipped back against the headrest and his mouth slightly open. Clint's eyes are closed, although Steve isn't sure if he's asleep, and Natasha's head is resting on his shoulder, although her eyes are still open.

Steve glances down at Bucky, who is clearly almost asleep already, and decides he'd better shift a bit now if he needs to because there's no way he's disturbing Bucky once he's completely out. He moves his leg just the tiniest bit, and Bucky starts to get up.

"Sorry, Steve –" he begins, his voice heavy with sleep, but Steve stops him quickly, rubbing his arm until he lays back down.

"Don't get up. Go to sleep, Buck. You're fine."

To his relief, Bucky doesn't need much coaxing – he melts back down into the couch, his metal hand sleepily tightening into a fist. He's warm now, no longer shivering.

Steve watches the movie for a bit longer, trying to stay awake, because he really wants to see the T-Rex again - but it's almost impossible with Bucky sleeping against him, so heavy and warm – it's like sitting with a warm blanket next to him, or a little furnace.

There's a soft _boom _from outside suddenly, very far away, and Bucky whimpers in his sleep, pressing closer. Steve quickly strokes a hand down his back, smoothing away the tension that gathered there so quickly.

"S'okay, Buck," he whispers, and Bucky settles immediately back into stillness at the sound of his voice.

"He trusts you so much."

Natasha's voice makes him jump, but thankfully it doesn't disturb Bucky, who sleeps on obliviously, his eyelashes only fluttering slightly. Steve glances quickly over at her, and she's still leaning against Clint, who is obviously asleep now too, his head resting at a rather awkward angle. Natasha's legs are curled under her, and she looks very small on the couch, not at all like a deadly assassin.

"Yeah, I guess." Steve can't help smiling at her words as he looks down at Bucky's sleepy profile. _He doesn't look like a deadly assassin right now, either. _

"I'm glad, Steve." Her voice is soft. "I didn't know how it was all going to work out for you... and I can see now that I shouldn't have worried." Her mouth twists into a slight smile, and Steve looks away again. "You look so happy now," she adds after a moment.

"What?" That surprises him, and he looks at her quickly, but she has her eyes closed.

"You do." There's amusement in her voice, and Steve frowns.

"I didn't look happy before?"

"No." She opens her eyes again, but she's looking at the TV, not at him. "You were just... existing. I haven't seen you in months, Steve, and I noticed the difference as soon as you walked in the door. He's given you purpose again, he's something that's _yours_. He's given you something to live for. You're happy. It's nice to see, that's all." She closes her eyes again, and rests her hand on Clint's arm.

Steve looks down at Bucky for a long time. He's completely still, breathing evenly, totally comfortable.

_She's right. I am happy now. Having Bucky back is... everything. I was alone before. Out of place, out of time. And I guess now I still am out of place and time, but - I'm not alone anymore. _

Bucky makes a little snuffling sound in his sleep, presses a little closer, and Steve smiles fondly.

_That's the thing that really matters. I can face whatever is thrown at me if I've got Bucky at my side. That's the truth. _

He leans his head back and closes his eyes.

x

**Who wants to cuddle with Bucky and Steve on the couch? *raises hand excitedly***

**Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought! :D**


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